The worst that I've done, and that I allow myself to remember, is to lose somebody's horse. But I want to tell a different story, one that might lessen the load of somebody still stricken by some old, post bacchanalian guilt.

We had been celebrating the last of the semester's exams with the traditional libations. Only two were left standing, myself and an old roommate. Most had retired to several rooms but one poor soul was out cold, upright in a chair there in the living room. For the obvious reasons, we started by removing this gentleman's trousers and replacing them with a thirty gallon bag with holes cut for his legs. This took quite a bit of time and delicate work. He kept stirring and my accomplice had only one arm. The exchange once made, however, we proceeded to drape with toilet paper the entire interior of the house and the people dwelling within - except for this first gentleman. We rolled out one long, white streamer from room to room and lamp to lamp and person to person stopping along the way for more minor mischief of the kind that you can imagine. Ending back in the living room, the two of us laid ourselves down for the rest of the night. And once the two of us had TP'ed ourselves I tossed what was left of the of the roll right into the lap of that gentleman.

Nothing was said by us the next morning, we just looked at the gentleman and shook our heads. He went around a apologized deeply for his behavior the night before and left. The last I heard, he had sworn off drink for good.